


Flop

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard watches out for Fíli in the aftermath of a rough night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flop

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Bard fucks Fili roughly and enjoys seeing him limping the next day” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/10731.html?thread=21983979#t21983979).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s supposed to leave the next day, but he can’t. It’s happened so many times that Thorin will understand. Fíli wakes up in the morning, groggy and pretty with his golden hair splayed out around the pillows, and Bard bends over him to peck his sweaty forehead, purring, “Rise and shine.”

Fíli grins and stretches, pushing short arms above his head and then wincing, pulling back in—he always seems to forget until he feels again just how _hard_ Bard took him. It must still be smarting, at least when he squirms his plump rear against the mattress. With the blankets peeled aside, he’s still flushed in places, his fair skin bruised everywhere from clawing finger marks and dull teeth. An array of bites mars his shoulders, his neck littered in red circles from being sucked. His nipples look a little swollen from being jerked and pinched too hard, his ass still puffy from its beating. A faint handprint is mingled in with the other signs of abuse. Bard used to be a gentle lover. He always means to be with Fíli, when the little prince has a mountain to return to the next day. But then Fíli will growl and beg to be thrown against the wall, and Bard’s too weak to refuse. 

Bard fucks like an animal, now that he has a lover so sweet. Fíli always rewards him for it with gorgeous moans and needy kisses, desperate little pleas and cries for always _more_. Fíli’s too beautiful. He drives Bard too wild. He rolls onto his front, letting his ripe globes jut into the air, caked with dried sweat and spit and cum between them. His thighs are even messier, scratched from being clutched at and held viciously down. He rests his head along the pillow, sighing heavily and writhing into place, until he seems to find the position that hurts the least. Bard would apologize, but he knows his virile lover would never take it. 

So he only bends down to kiss Fíli’s cheek, their stubble tickling one another. Softly, Bard asks, “Can I get you anything?” He’s already dressed and seen to the children, though Tilda is the only one awake, running about with her practice sword. He’ll make them breakfast shortly. But first he checks that the man he fucked so brutally into his mattress the night before is doing well. 

Fíli takes in a deep breath and exhales, then falls into a yawn. Finally, he pushes up on his elbows, murmuring, “I can get it myself.”

Bard lifts an eyebrow but knows better than to argue with dwarves. The nurturing part of him wants to hold Fíli down, not let him limp away with all his sores and bruises, but Fíli is a grown man, and a stubborn one, and has made the decision for himself. ...And a small, selfish part of Bard _enjoys_ this part: watching his attractive lover slip out of bed and shakily pull on trousers, every last movement affected by the sting of his rear. He grimaces his way through pulling them up and doesn’t bother with a shirt. Bard stays seated on the bed, observing Fíli stumbling towards the door, one awkward step at a time. If he went back to Erebor with that limp, their kingdoms would be at war.

He only makes it to the door. There, he slumps against it, panting, and he turns with another groan, shaking his head. He comes back, only to fall flat against the mattress. He lets his face stay buried in the pillows, shame likely painting his cheeks. 

Bard runs a loving hand down Fíli’s spine. He pushes the hem of the trousers down: there’ll be no need for them; Fíli won’t be leaving Bard’s bed anytime soon. He traces the hump of Fíli’s rear and pries the two fat cheeks open to eye the little pink hole between, smeared with crusted juices. He’ll need a bath, or at least a warm cloth. And maybe after, an eager tongue. Bard taps his index finger at the furrowed hole just to see Fíli whine and squirm. 

Pushing the rest of the trousers down Fíli’s legs, Bard presses a fleeting kiss to Fíli’s ass, then nips at it lightly. When the trousers are gone, he pecks Fíli’s tailbone, licks up his spine, and gnaws at his shoulder, until he turns his face against the sheets and pants a heady, “ _Bard_...”

Bard knows that tone. And he can’t afford to keep Fíli captive another day. So he straightens out, promising quietly, “I’ll make you a breakfast fit for a prince.”

Fíli only grumbles, “I’ll get you for this.” Bard laughs. 

Fíli’s welcome to anytime. But every time they try, Fíli changes his mind, becomes wanton and easy and begs for Bard to fill him instead. Bard never has the will to refuse. 

Bard makes it to the doorway much faster than Fíli, but he stops there, glancing back at Fíli’s languid moan. Fíli shakes his ass enticingly, grinning over his shoulder and purring, “Hurry back.”

Bard rolls his eyes but does so.


End file.
